


Balbalis Nox

by divisionten



Category: Ratchet & Clank
Genre: Dimension Travel, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 21:16:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4278213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/divisionten/pseuds/divisionten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Balbalis nox,” Croid said, holding up a sealed bag of strange red leaves. “In small, controlled doses, a pain relief and mild hallucinogenic to lombaxes. Used in various religious ceremonies, and pain management for some chronic disorders. Tasteless and odorless unless smoked, and only affects felids.”<br/>"So I was poisoned?" Ratchet replied weakly.<br/>"Essentially, yes."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Balbalis Nox

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This originally appeared in my series of shorts, **_Civility_**. It got such a positive response; I am turning it into a longer full-length fic. Here’s the first chapter of the dimension-hopping fic, **_Balbalis Nox_**!

Ratchet groggily awoke to the mechanical sounds of beeping, something he’d increasingly been used to living with Clank. What was new, however, was the oxygen mask covering his face, and the burning sensation around his eyes.

“Mrph?” he muttered, before realizing a tube was down his throat, and two more in his nose. He relaxed a little; hospitals meant he’d done something **_exceedingly_** stupid, but he would be all right. A small alarm sounded, and, as he expected, Clank heli-pack hovered up and onto the gurney.

“You are going to be bed-bound for at least three more days, Ratchet,” Clank said matter-of-factly. “Do you remember what happened?” he asked, as he carefully ran the program to remove the plastic tube from Ratchet’s throat, but kept the smaller ones in his nostrils inside his snout.

“Not… really. I remember the benefit dinner on Luminopolis for stopping Ephemeris… what did I do?” It had to be pretty bad; when Ratchet shifted, he felt a slight pang of pain from three IV drips, plus his tail had been carefully tied down to the side of the bed, an annoying sign to him that it had to be pushed out of the way for a bedpan. Worse was the mild vibration he felt running down his tail and up his spine… he had to have been out at **_least_** four or five days if they were electroshocking his tail muscles to prevent atrophy; Ratchet lost balance whenever the ropy appendage managed to numb.

Clank’s voice took away some of the fog as Ratchet took stock of his surroundings. “For once, nothing. Your food had been drugged. Doctor Croid and Doctor Binklemeyer have been keeping an eye on you.”

“Ugh,” was all Ratchet could reply, before Croid himself came into view, using one of his mechanical arms to begin examining Ratchet now that he’d awoken. Ratchet sighed and tried to settle into the gurney, but the pinchers near his mouth and ears (padded tips or otherwise) were still uncomfortably close.

“ ** _Balbalis nox_** ,” Croid said, holding up a sealed bag of strange red leaves in another pincer as he withdrew the one checking his throat upon noticing Ratchet’s discomfort. “In small, controlled doses, a pain relief and mild hallucinogenic to lombaxes. Used in various religious ceremonies, and pain management for some chronic disorders. Tasteless and odorless unless smoked, and only affects felids.”

“ ** _Catnip_** ,” Ratchet replied.

“Esentially,” Croid responded. “Someone laced the soup itself with the leaves’ oil. I actually don’t think you were the intended target, though. There’s never been a reported death by overdose to lombax-kind, no matter how much had been taken.”

“Sasha was supposed to be there, and had to cancel at the last minute…” Clank provided, gently squeezing Ratchet’s hand. Ratchet let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“A dose like that would probably kill a Cazar, yes,” Binklemeyer interjected.

“Yay, for taking one for the team…” Ratchet mumbled. “Sooooo… what’s going to happen to me now?”

“As the majority of the dose is now exhumed from your system… you’re going to start having the effects of a high dose. Hallucinations. Out of body experiences. Extreme taste and smell. Eventually, a normal, controlled dose of minor hallucinations and relaxant before it finally clears out in two or three days’ time,” Binklemeyer stated, with a helping of empathy behind his words.

“Joy,” Ratchet grumbled sarcastically, through clenched teeth.

“This may be out of line,” Croid cut in over his colleague, “but seeing as you’re the last lombax and all- may we record this?”

“Will I remember most of this?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Clank, will you blackmail me with this?”

“Most certainly.”

“Yeah, sure. Go ahead. I’m sure Tal would want to see the tapes,” Ratchet said half-laughing, before everything went fuzzy again.

* * *

 

Ratchet blinked, and saw an expanse of stars, floating above it all. He was in nothing but a hospital gown, front barely kept closed by the cloth ties. His tail was oddly numb, and he cursed at it under his breath, pulling at it to try and regain some sensation.

“So you are my son’s closest friend,” he heard, from a wise old voice behind him that sounded oddly close to, but not quite like, Croid’s.

Ratchet turned and floated down, looking at the purple-skinned creature. “Zoni?” he asked, quizzically.

“Have a seat,” the apparition replied, materializing a plush chair from the nothingness.

“You said your son… I never got a good look at you before. You… you’re Orvus. And if I remember correctly… I’m high as a kite, so this is a hallucina- ow.” Ratchet said, feeling a sudden shock to his spine, before the pulse of electricity began a steady, gentle rhythm. Ratchet thumped his tail lightly against the chair, feeling slowly returning to the appendage.

“That’s not quite how lombax nip works, you know,” Orvus said, grinning.

“I… what now?”

“There’s a reason lombaxes don’t die from it, Cazars can, and nobody else has any effect at all. Brain chemistry. It… well, it essentially creates a temporary miniature dimension hopping chemical when mixed… its what led your people to inventing a mechanical means for doing so. Some Cazars can’t handle it. E-he-he-he-he.”

 “The Dimensionator… is powered by drugging out?” Ratchet said, squirming a little.

“A replacement for it, actually, but the principle is much the same. Honestly, I am surprised. I did not expect you to end up here… if anything, you should have had some time with the lombaxes before the drug worked its way out of your system.”

“The doctors who were keeping an eye on me didn’t mention anything like this…” Ratchet replied. “Great. I’m hallucinating my best friend’s dad, who I saw off half a holovid, and about three minutes in real life.”

Orvus smiled. “This is quite real; there simply hasn’t been a lombax coming of age ceremony anywhere in our universe for over twenty years. And even if so, it’s quite the ability. They always kept mum about it. I only knew because occasionally, a young lombax might pull something back out with them, and that set off alarms at the Clock like you would not believe.”

“Okay… say for a sec I’m not dreaming…” Ratchet replied, crossing his arms, feeling the ghosting pang from where the IV had been. A piece of cloth had been tightly wound around the spot, and he noticed Orvus’s billowing black cloak had a large piece shredded off.

“You sound unconvinced,” Orvus replied. “But I can certainly see why. Go on, my boy.”

Ratchet pinched the bridge of his snout. “I can bring things out?”

“Well, you aren’t naked, are you?” Orvus replied, pulling at the blue hospital garment.

“Back home… well, back on Magnus, where am I?”

“You **_aren’t_**. I do hope they aren’t too worried when you blinked out of existence. As I said… this is an effect only on a fairly large dose. And the window of time for hopping between dimensions is fickle. Could be moments… or eons.”

Ratchet shuddered at the end of the statement, but ignored it. “Want to go home?” he asked, looking at his new companion. The worst that would happen was that he was talking aloud while hallucinating back at the hospital and upset Clank (which was still pretty insensitive, in his opinion, but understandable)… the best? He looked down at Orvus’s ancient purple face.

“I do think it is about time. E-he-he-he-he. Time! Because I built the Clock, see? Oh, I do slay myself,” he replied, grasping Ratchet’s hand tightly. “How much did you take, though? We might be stuck here a while.”

“That’s fine. I think I can wait,” Ratchet said smiling. At this point, he was just glad this was the route his mind chose for him instead of say… hunting  Leviathans with nothing but his wrench on Sargasso. “So… is Clank a Zoni, or…?”

“Oh, my boy, that story, is quite the interesting tale itself. Here, let me start at the beginning…”

* * *

 

Clank shuddered to action when he heard the IV drip clatter to the floor. He extended from his battery charger, looking down at Ratchet He’d been awake the entire afternoon through the night, electing to take a longer wake charge than a short one while in sleep mode to make sure someone was with Ratchet while he was unconscious and hallucinating.

The anti-atrophy machine was operational, the vitals were reading fine, and the mouth and nasal tubes were regulating his berating, Ratchet’s chest rising and falling along with the oxygen machine. Ratchet breathed in sync with the hum of the pump, and his tail, pulled to one side, twitched lightly with the click of the shocks.

Clank noticed that the IV drip was dangling from its rack, out of Ratchet’s arm, as he had been sure he’d just heard with his sensors. It must have come loose from the electroshocks; Croid warned Clank of the possibility given Ratchet’s small size. Ratchet needed nutrients and hydration while unconscious, but a few moments with the tube removed wouldn’t do any harm, so Clank carefully and slowly unhooked the shock machine before un-belting the bedding to reinsert the needle end of the drip.

Only to find Ratchet completely naked under the sheets, except for a black band of cloth tied around the forearm where the drip had been inserted earlier.

Clank hastily threw the sheet back over Ratchet’s lower half, blinking in shock for a moment while his processor reeled. **_This is how Nefarious feels_** , Clank thought, as his processor realigned itself and he pressed the call button to wake and summon Croid and Binklemeyer.

Not a moment later, did Ratchet’s hand grip for his tail, and Clank watched in awe as his mouth opened wide in slumber, cursing low in Blargian. Clank pulled out the mouth tube and checked the recording equipment. This was going to be a show.

“Zoni?” Ratchet asked to no-one, his eyes blinking open.

“Ratchet, what are you seeing?” Clank asked, hearing the footfalls of the two doctors behind him. After the two had left the Clock, Clank hadn’t seen a single Zoni, not even when he’d returned to bring Sigmund some supplies. Maybe giving up the power of Senior Caretaker had drained him of his ability to perceive them?

**_But why would Zoni steal Ratchet’s clothes and pull out an IV?_ **

At the very least, if they’d done it, there was a very good reason; they always seemed to work with purpose.

“Why did you remove his gown, mouth tube, and IV?” Binklemeyer asked.

Clank put a finger to his mouth, and held up another hand to the camera, and the two scientists nodded quietly.

“Put his anti-atrophy back in, at least,” Croid whispered, just as Ratchet blinked and began to speak again. Binklemeyer began powering up the electrical device.

“You said your son… I never got a good look at you before. You… you’re Orvus. And if I remember correctly… I’m high as a kite, so this is a hallucina- ow,” Ratchet said dully and far-off, as if under hypnosis. But his words left Clank’s jaw mechanism wide open.

Of all the possible things, Ratchet was dreaming of **_Orvus_**?

Ratchet thumped his tail hard against the gurney, but didn’t dislodge the ties or wiring.

“I… what now?” Ratchet asked.

“I wish we could hear the other half of the conversation,” Croid mumbled sadly. “I wonder who he thinks he’s talking to?”

“The Dimensionator… is powered by drugging out?”

“If the boy weren’t drugged so heavily, I’d say he were mad,” Binlkemeyer commented. “It sounds like he’s reliving the past ten years of his life all at once.”

Clank blinked. These weren’t mad ramblings, if Ratchet thought he was talking with Orvus.

“The doctors who were keeping an eye on me didn’t mention anything like this…” Ratchet said dully, after a long pause. “Great. I’m hallucinating my best friend’s dad, who I saw off half a holovid, and about three minutes in real life.”

All three were now silent, listening intently to Ratchet’s subconcous pouring out in the drugged stupor.

“Okay… say for a sec I’m not dreaming…” Ratchet said flatly, crossing his arms, free of belting or IV, feeling the black armband that had mysteriously taken the place of the needle, despite Clank’s nightwatch.

Ratchet lifted the un- banded hand, saying something that sent a chill down Croid’s spine as he pinched the bridge of his snout. “I can bring things out?”

“Oh dear, I think we should induce waking him; remember the Nethers in Meridian City? They came through…”

“Back home… well, back on Magnus, where am I?”

“Binklemeyer, go get the smelling salts, **_now_**. I do not wish to find out if this is a mere hallucin-“

 “Want to go home?”

“ ** _Now, Nevo_**!” Croid screamed, as Ratchet held out his hand to the air, before grasping something shut.

“Stop,” Clank demanded, as he watched a purple skinned creature come into focus, as if tuning an old holo-viewer. Binklemeyer dropped the container of smelling salts with a crash and looked at Ratchet’s raised arm in awe.

“That’s fine. I think I can wait,” Ratchet said smiling, still looking glassily at the ceiling, as Orvus held tightly to Ratchet’s hand, his metallic armor gleaming against the machines. “So… is Clank a Zoni, or…?”

Orvus blinked a few times, sitting upright on Ratchet’s torso but still grasping the lombax’s lightly furred hand. He quickly took stock of the room, smiling brightly at Clank before turning back to Ratchet’s zoned-out face. “Oh, my boy, that story, is quite the interesting tale itself. Here, let me start at the beginning… Clank, my son! Would you be so kind as to awaken our fuzzy friend? I think this would be better if all of us were conscious to hear it.”

“We should do as he asks,” Clank said with conviction. There was no doubt that this was really Orvus; three more Zoni were now visible to Clank and floated in view. He could feel their unique energy signatures through his Wi-Fi port. If it were an imposter, it was at least a Zoni one.

Binklemeyer shook himself from his own momentary stupor, and scooped up a handful of the salts, bringing them around and towards Ratchet, while Croid unhooked the nose tubes for Ratchet to get a strong whiff.

Ratchet coughed heavily, and blinked; to everyone’s surprise but Orvus, Ratchet’s blue hospital clothing materialized back around him like hard light armor.

Ratchet took a few gulping breaths, before Orvus released his grasp.

“Thank you, my boy,” Orvus said, after a silence.

“Can someone explain what the heck is going on here?” Ratchet yowled, panting. “I am really, really confused right now.”

Ratchet looked down at Orvus, sitting on his lap, then to Clank, staring wide-eyed, three floating Zoni, the salt and glass pile on the floor, Croid, and Binklemeyer, then, lastly, at the only thing in the room currently making noise- the anit-atrophy machine, clicking out a steady rhythm he felt through his tail and up his spine.

“I… hm.” Croid paused. “I think I ought to put on a pot of tea.”


End file.
